Cure for a Lost Cause
by anonymousaurus
Summary: It is a few years after the events of the Crusades. The Templars and Assassins have found a way to share peace with each other. In the midst of the celebration, a plot is underway. Altair must stop the impending threat to the Era of Peace while trying to ignore his growing feelings for a mysterious woman. Perhaps she'll be able to help? Rated M for language, violence, and LEMONS!
1. Remedy

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything from Assassin's Creed.

**Author's note: **These first couple of chapters will be kind of short, as I am still trying to get my footing in this whole publishing thing on here. But the 3rd chapter is coming soon, and will be significantly longer. It will also have much awaited Lemons and fluff! Enjoy!

* * *

_Her eyes are beautiful. _

Altair clenched his teeth tightly, his jaw muscles twitching. He repositioned himself in his uncomfortable chair, adjusting the black robes' cloth around his shoulders. He hated the robe. Nothing about it fit right, and he felt like he was constantly fixing one part or another of it. But he had to wear it, as it was much more elegant than the robes he normally wore. Besides, it made him fit in better at the table. The crowded, noisy table. Too crowded for Altair. Everyone in attendance was of extremely high pedigree. The Dukes and Duchesses from many different countries were chattering lightly with each other, ignoring how full the room was, while the servants and hand maidens brought tray after tray of delectable desserts for the royalty to choose from. Because he was seated next to his master, Al Mualim, Altair was also offered just as many of the dessert trays, if not more. Each one was turned away with a lazy wave of his hand. This was no time for eating. Where was that girl? He saw her moments ago, and only for a split second, but she had peaked his interest, and he wanted to see her again.

"Rahul," Al Mualim leaned towards Altair, getting his attention with the fake name.

"Yes?"

"You should snap out of whatever day dream you are having, and focus on the task at hand," The old man tapped his fork against Altair's sleeve. The fork was dirty, food crumbs sticking to the cloth all too easily. Altair sighed heavily and leaned away from his slightly drunk master.

Altair's task was to find the illegitimate son of the Duke of France. His face was unknown, his age - also unknown. The only thing Altair had to go off of was that he was posing as a servant to a different royal couple, and that he was planning to kill them. The only death that was to be allowed at this dinner was his own. For this feast was one of alliances.

The Duke of France had successfully petitioned a cease fire between the Templars and the Assassins. To celebrate, he invited his noble friends and, of course, the men in charge of either side in the war. The guards at the event were neutral, as were all the people attending. It was the start of a new era – an era of peace. Such a shame that it was the Duke's own son who planned to sabotage it all.

A shadowy figure moved across the other end of the room, catching Altair's attention. He excused himself, gathering the flowing robe around him and calmly strode across the room. There was a curtain separating this half of the room from the dining area, and was almost completely covered in shadow. He eased his shoulders and relaxed his back – the darkness comforted him. He stepped lightly around a large column and into an open door, closing it quietly behind him. There was a hooded figure sitting at a small desk in the far corner of the room. Only a candle lit the area immediately around them, and Altair could see the figure writing on parchment. He snuck around slowly, and nestled himself into the dark corner closest to the figure. Leaning against the wall, he pulled his hood up and crossed his arms. The hood that the writer was wearing covered most of their face. Only the mouth was exposed. The plump, pink, soft lips parted slightly, and a tongue flicked out, licking the bottom lip as the writer paused in thought, then continued with their work. _It's a woman? Maybe she'll know about the fake servant._

"What are you writing?" The woman jumped up and instantly pulled out a knife from seemingly nowhere. Her stance was strong, but her breathing and voice were unsure.

"W-who are you? Come out of the shadows, trespasser," She pulled down her hood to see the figure better.

Altair's breathe hitched in his throat. It was her, the woman from before, of whom he had only been able to catch a glimpse of. She was even more beautiful up close, her crystal blue eyes piercing through his own, like the cold of a winter storm. Her features were soft, yet sharp, making her look wise, but still young. Dark black hair curled freely around her head and down to her chest, rimming her face, making her skin glow. Altair took a step, lifting a hand in front of him.

"Not a trespasser; I'm actually an invited guest to this…party." The woman lowered the knife slightly, still keeping a firm glare on his face.

"Let me see all of your face, hiding behind a mask is untrustworthy."

"I think I'll leave it up for now. So what were you writing?"

The woman straightened her back and put the knife on the table. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she sighed.

"It is none of your concern, assassin. Simply a letter to family back home. Do tell me what you are doing, sneaking around in the shadows while a dinner of peace is being held?" She had picked up the writing quill and was prodding her cheek lightly with the feather, waiting for an explanation.

"My role here is more of 'protector' than honored guest." He took another step forward, only a foot away from her, and plucked the quill from her fingers. "What is your name?"

The woman's eyes turned their blue gaze to Altair's lips as he finished his question. She could see the smallest hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth. At the other corner, a scar from a deep cut long ago. Her feet moved her forward just enough to see the rest of his face in the dim light. She moved her eyes up past his stubble, past his sharp nose, and let them rest on his. She studied the gold green flecks among the light and dark brown of his irises. The color was welcoming, a deep contrast to his rugged features.

"You may call me Aelis," She whispered, as if telling Altair a secret only meant for him. "and you, assassin?"

"Rahul," Altair muttered back just as quietly. Aelis raised an eyebrow in slight skepticism – He didn't look like a 'Rahul'. Before she could say anything about it, Altair spoke again.

"Do you know of a man here, a servant, that doesn't belong?" He questioned as he placed the quill gently back into her palm. Aelis pursed her lips together and twirled the quill around her fingers in thought. All of the servants were accounted for. Was this servant the center of a murder plot? _Most likely. Peace never lasts forever, and this dinner seems forced anyway._

She leaned against the table, placing the quill back by the parchment, "I can't think of anyone suspicious at the moment. I'm sure if you watched the servants closely enough, you could find the odd one out," she smiled at Altair, "but you don't have time for that, do you? Why else would you be asking a stranger for help?"

"I'm not asking for _help_, I simply wanted insight, if you could offer any." Altair scowled as he turned his attention to the door.

"You know, assassin…I could help you." Aelis had found the quill again, and was tracing small circles on Altair's chest with the feather. He suppressed a shiver.

"Oh? And how would you be able to help?" He breathed deeply as he stepped ever closer to the angel before him, closing the gap between the two. She took a step back, into the table, causing her to sit lightly and just barely straddle Altair's right leg.

She leaned forward, held her lips just in front of his and spoke with a velvety voice, "I could help you, for a price."


	2. Escape

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything from Assassin's Creed.

**Author's note: **First of all, thanks everyone for reading! I saw that I had 75 views. Which might not be amazing to all the FanFic vets here, but it's exciting for me! :D

Just as a **Warning, **this chapter contains some violence.

* * *

Aelis awoke in the room where she had been writing. How long ago was it that she had met that assassin? She rolled her eyes as her wrists felt rough bindings around them behind her back. The floor smelled musky and dirty. The servants had neglected to clean this room for god knows how long now. The candle on the desk was out, but she could smell faint hints of cinnamon as the lingering scent of the candle swam around the room in invisible tendrils. _I must have been out for just a few minutes. _

She wriggled her way across the floor to a small compartment at the foot of the table. Her feet were bound as well, albeit loosely, so she was able to open the lid of the small box. She moved her foot and slowly slid a very thin and small blade out onto the floor with her toes. Then, positioning herself around the blade so that her bound hands could reach it, she grabbed it and worked it delicately along the cloth wraps. Her hands were easily freed, and shortly after, so were her feet.

"He ripped his robe for these bindings?" she muttered to herself as she studied the wraps Altair had used to tie her. She swiftly rose to her feet, sweeping out any unwanted wrinkles in her dress. She lifted the right side of the skirt to expose a small pack strapped to her thigh. Into the pack went the small blade, and out came a few pins with which she used to pin up the flowing dark curls on her head. Aelis found a pair of black gloves in the cabinet, which she stuck inside her corset, and daintily left the small room.

* * *

On the other side of the curtain, back in the dining area, Altair had returned to his seat, this time holding the letter that he caught the temptress writing just a few minutes ago. He folded it up and stuck it into a pocket in his robes, deciding it was best to read it later. He closed his eyes briefly as he mentally chastised himself for almost falling into one of the most embarrassing traps he'd ever been exposed to. She was a beautiful French angel, one that could not be trusted. Most likely Templar. If he, an assassin, was assigned to a job at this peace dinner, why wouldn't the Templars do the same?

Aelis peered out from behind the large curtain and scanned the room slowly for her prey. She found him after some time, seated next to his master. _How lucky! He wouldn't dare try anything with Al Mualim right next to him._ She picked up a goblet of sweet cinnamon wine and eased her way towards the table. Altair leaned back in his chair and reached for his cup. If he had to deal with the woman again, he preferred not to be sober for it.

"I was worried that I wouldn't be able to find you again, _Rahul_." Her soft voice over pronounced the fake name, emphasizing the vowels in it. She slipped into the empty chair next to him, turning her body towards him. "Did you think you could get away by not showing me your face?" Her gloved hand reached up and brushed against the stubble on his jaw. The man leaned his knee against her leg and plucked another cup of drink from the tray of a nearby servant.

"Don't you have better things to do than throw yourself on uninterested men?" Altair muttered into his cup before gulping down its contents. Aelis's hand dropped from his face to his leg, digging nails into the cloth and his thigh. She leaned closer to his ear and spoke just above a whisper.

"My job, Rahul, is to stop you from doing yours, whatever that may be. I wasn't paid to take your virginity, however much you want it." She lifted her hand and took in a deep breathe, letting out her annoyance into the air. She put on a smile and waved over a servant for more wine. Taking two, she handed one to her companion.

"Here. I think the most efficient way to deter you from your duties is to keep you occupied, physically and mentally. Drink." Altair gave her a look of mild irritation and grabbed the cup from her hand. He was losing interest in this dinner. His interest for the woman had already fled from him. Now the rest of the atmosphere was crumbling away from his conscience, and he was slowly letting intoxication take its hold. Al Mualim was drunk, it only made sense that Altair could do the same.

"You hadn't given me a chance to tell you something that you might benefit from knowing, Rahul." She took a big gulp of her wine before continuing, "There is no servant that doesn't belong…anymore. If your job was to take him out, you will fail. Because the one you were looking for is already dead." Altair almost spit the drink from his mouth into Aelis's face. His mind reeled with everything he could possibly think of about the mission. The servant was the secret son of the Duke. The Duke was neutral. The son was Templar. There were no other people in attendance that were publicly known for being part of one side. No others except for Al Mualim and Altair. There weren't any known Templars in attendance. The secret son of the Duke is dead.

Suddenly, clarity washed over Altair, enveloping his whole being with the feeling of complete and utter defeat. The situation was bringing itself to the forefront and Altair realized that if what the woman said was true, the assassins had no chance of winning. He swallowed hard and turned to look into Aelis's icy blue eyes.

"If the Duke's son is dead, it is only a matter of time before the Duke himself finds out. Bastard or not, he will be furious," he washed down his bitter anger with the rest of his wine, "and I will be blamed for it."

* * *

Just as he finished his slightly slurred words, an arrow came from the curtained side of the room. It flew just shy of Altair's nose and lodged itself firmly in the temple of his master's head. Blood seeped out from around the arrow, as a soft curdling sound made its way into the ears of everyone in the room. For a brief moment – time stood still. No one spoke, and all eyes were turned to the center of the table, where a powerful man sat slouched with a bloodied arrow through his head. Altair sank deeply into his chair, the alcohol making the room swirl around his head, tossing his stomach to the point of sickness. He lurched forward, expelling the contents of his stomach onto the floor and under the table.

A woman screamed.

Another fainted.

Chaos broke loose. Servants dropped their trays and ran for help, while the hand maidens rushed to their Masters in sheer terror. Aelis grabbed the knife from her thigh pack and reached for Altair's arm. He lifted his head to look at his master's blood swelled face before leaving the table with her. She pushed women out of the way, stepping on dress hems and pulling the drunken mess next to her. He was dumbfounded and hazy, and only seemed to move if Aelis pulled on his arm to keep going. They reached the balcony door, and ducked around the corner to the outside.

The air was cold and harsh. A slight breeze every so often sent shivers jolting down their spines as the two made their way hastily down the steep stone stairs. It led them to the base of the large castle, where there was a dense bunch of trees in a circle.

"These are the castle gardens. I grew up here, Rahul," Aelis whispered as she waited for Altair to get his footing on the soft earth beneath them. She offered both of her arms to steady him, and he took them immediately. He was being led to the tree circle. They stepped through leaves and branches and stopped on the inside. There was a stone and metal grate on the ground in the middle of the space.

"When my ancestors built this castle, they made escape routes to the bottom of the valley. This particular one leads north, under the whole structure, to the edge of the sea, cliff side. Once we're through, I'll get us to someplace safe so you can rest." She reached down and grabbed hold of a rusty handle on one side of the grate. Lifting with all her might, the heavy covering slid slowly across, revealing a deep and dark hole.

"You first; if you end up falling, I don't want to be under you." Altair grunted and climbed into the darkness.


	3. Discovery

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything of Assassin's Creed.

**Author's Note: **I am sorry it took so long to finish this chapter! Keep in mind, this is the one with **lemons** so be prepared. The next chapter will be here soon!

* * *

Altair couldn't tell how long they had been walking for, but it seemed like days. His forehead was sweaty, and his feet felt like they were about to fall off and be left behind. With every step he took, his headache grew. Sobriety was regaining control over his mind, bringing with it the pain of a loved one's murder. He had run away from the trouble ensuing in the aftermath of two major deaths. He felt like a coward.

But he couldn't shake a certain feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. Regret? No, that wasn't it. _Guilt. _He felt guilty; not of his master's death, but the way Altair felt about it. While it was true he had been drunk, that still didn't change how he should have felt about his master's death. It was painful, but for some reason, he felt no sorrow for the man. Al Mualim hadn't exactly been sweet to him during his life. In fact, it was almost a relief that he was gone. It meant that Altair no longer had a tie to anyone. He was free to do as he wished. He realized with much mental debate that it was not time to worry yet.

Altair took in a deep breath and released the tension in his muscles. The shadows were his home away from home, and he was walking in a place that had them in abundance. His eyes had finally adjusted fully to the dark, and as he looked around, he remembered that he wasn't alone. The woman that had dragged his drunken self out of danger had been walking, ever quietly, behind him this whole time. He slowed his pace and turned his head just enough to see her in his peripheral.

"How long have we been walking?" he questioned quietly, so as not to make an echo.

"A while now. Apparently it's been long enough for you to sober up quite a bit, hm?" He could practically feel the air change with an aura of smugness emanating from the woman. Altair stopped suddenly and turned fully around. He pinned Aelis to the wall next to them, holding her in place with the weight of his body. His hands were on either side of her shoulders, feet on either side of hers. He was not nearly as drunk as he was at the castle, but his head was still spinning and he closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself. When he opened his eyes again, blues were staring into hazels. Altair's lips parted slightly to speak.

"You need to start explaining to me whose side you are on," the words came out deeper and huskier than Aelis had expected, and her body shivered underneath the man. She could smell the wine on his breath still, even though he had washed out his mouth many times with the flask of mint water she had given him. She stayed rigid and uncomfortable, and turned her eyes away from his as she answered.

"I am not a Templar…I am not an assassin either, but I do side with the assassins if that's what you're asking."

"So what are you then? You also said you grew up at the castle. How does that come into play?"

"I am a free entity. I work for whoever hires me, if I need the money at the time. As for me growing up there…I am the illegitimate daughter of the Duke. He liked to get around I suppose." Altair raised an eyebrow in thought. How trustworthy was this woman if she was the blood of the royals? The same royals whose son was also killed at the peace dinner, no less.

"If you side with the Assassins, why were you stopping me from doing my job?" Altair shifted his weight to his other leg and lightly lifted the woman's chin up so their faces were almost touching.

"And why should I trust you now, when you didn't display any inkling of friendship at the dinner?" His voice was low and dangerous, almost daring her to get smart with him. Aelis closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh before gathering her thoughts to answer.

"My particular job was given to me by an unknown source. I received the job from a courier. All it said was to 'make sure the assassin does not try anything to harm the peace'. Looks like it wasn't you I should've been watching, hm?" she paused and looked into Altair's eyes, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Hesitating, she continued slowly when he stayed silent, "I don't have a good reason for you to trust me. All I have is the fact that I don't trust you either, seeing as you have me pinned to a wall, unable to defend myself."

She saw his lips form a small smirk at her words and felt him move his body closer to her. They were completely touching. Altair moved his lips until they were just before Aelis's, breathing softly. She felt a shiver crawling down her spine, and she arched her back slightly into the man, pressing her clothed breasts to his lean torso. The man's muscles tightened and twitched at the touch of her chest against his.

He moved his lips to her ear, where he closed his eyes and murmured roughly, "So you don't trust me..?" Aelis lifted her hands to his chest and rubbed the clothing softly, feeling the toned pectoral muscles underneath.

She pressed her cheek against his and whispered back, "…Is there anything you can do to make me?"

The assassin moved his hips against hers, letting her feel his growing member through his robes. He breathed onto her ear huskily and moved his hands down the curvature of her body. Letting them slide slowly down her sides, he felt curves with every finger until he reached her thighs. Then he brought them slowly back up the front to her breasts. Altair left one hand to tend to the supple mounds while the other reached up to the woman's face, cupping her cheek. He brought his face back around from her ear to her parted lips, and leaned in to kiss her.

The kiss was rough and passionate, one that both of them had been waiting for since they first laid eyes on the other. Their lips moved together in unison as Aelis wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. She could feel the assassin move his strong arms around her waist, then run his hands up and down her back, alternating scratching lightly and applying light pressure along her spine.

* * *

Altair felt as if he was drunk all over again. He knew he didn't trust the woman, but her mysterious persona and smug attitude made him want her that much more. He couldn't get enough. His hands wanted to roam all over her body, and feel with his calloused fingers the soft skin underneath her clothing. The dangers of searching guards outside of the tunnel had disappeared to him, and all the assassin had on his mind was Aelis. It was impossible for him to think of anything else, especially while the woman in front of him was kissing so passionately and grinding her hips on him. His heated member was fully grown and pressing uncomfortably against his robes. He needed more. His hands reached down to Aelis's posterior. His hands grabbed firmly and lifted her up, pushing her roughly into the wall behind her. Aelis gasped in surprise and moaned deeply into the kiss, causing his manhood to ache with want. She wrapped her legs around his waist and reached down to her skirts to pull them up. Undoing the clasps on the front of her corset in haste, she unwrapped and dropped it. Then she untied the string holding her hooded robe together. It fell lightly underneath her, exposing soft pink nipples to the air. Altair released her lips and lowered her softly to the ground, setting her onto the fallen robe. Leaning her back against the wall, Aelis sat up slightly in hopes of seeing the rugged man pleasuring her. To her disappointment, it was too dark, so she closed her eyes and reached her hands toward Altair's face, bringing him into her chest. Altair switched position to sit on his ankles, knees in front of him, and leaned forward to kiss and suck the woman's breasts. He kept one nipple in his mouth as he grabbed her legs and guided them around his waist once more, lifting her gently onto his lap. Soft moans drifted through the tunnel with each pull and suck of Aelis's sensitive breasts. Her fingers couldn't help but run through Altair's short hair while he pleasured her.

Altair's hand had trailed its way down to her hot crevice and was gently massaging the outer lips, begging entrance. Aelis moaned and pushed her hips into Altair's hand while grabbing at his collar for another passionate kiss. His tongue explored her mouth while his fingers slid in and out of her. Her head spun with each pulse of pleasure growing greater. She could hear bits and pieces of whispers and short sentences of want from the man as he let go of her mouth to tend to her breasts once more. Aelis couldn't wait any longer. She roughly reached for the ties on his robes and leaned in for another kiss while Altair shed his pants. He threw them hastily away and pulled the woman close to him again hurriedly, as if she would disappear if he let her go.

Then he stopped. As he wrapped his arms around her small waist, he whispered in her ear, "Please..?" The woman shivered once more and reached down to stroke his hard shaft. Her compliance with his want was nothing more than pushing her hips slowly into his, taking all of him inside her. She arched her back and let out a low, pleasure-filled moan. Altair closed his eyes at the feel of him in her and completely lost himself to his wants. He leaned forward and fucked her hard.

* * *

The two exited the tunnel shortly after their affair. The sun was just peeking over the valley, and Aelis rolled her eyes at the pain of the brightness. Altair blinked a few times and kept walking.

"Where is this safe house? There's no way I can go back to Masyaf just yet. It will have been compromised long before I even get near. I need to figure out a plan of action first."

"I can see you have not yet read the letter I was writing. If you did, you would know that I overheard Templar guards speaking of overrunning the Masyaf strong hold. They plan to attack by tomorrow morning if all went well in recovering a 'Piece of Eden'. Do you know anything about it, Rahul?"

Altair let out a breathy chuckle at the fake name. "My name is Altair," he reached lazily over his shoulder for a throwing knife and began tossing it in the air repeatedly, catching it and tossing again.

Aelis rolled her eyes in annoyance and let out a defeated sigh. Her hand reached into the pack at her side and pulled out a small rolled up parchment.

"Look at this. It is a map I found on one of the guards before the dinner had started." She stopped under a tree and unrolled the scroll. "I studied this as best I could, but I cannot figure out where this map is directed to." Altair rubbed his chin and reached for the map. There was nothing special about the drawing itself, it was simply an outline of some area with a mark in the top center of it. What caught his attention was the seal in the bottom right corner. It was scarlet red wax, with flecks of gold stamped in an unfamiliar design.

"What is this seal here?"

Aelis raised an eyebrow and answered hesitantly, "…I'm not really sure. At first I thought it would be of the Templars. But it's different than any of their markings that I've seen before. Could they be working with someone else?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. The announcement of peace would have been the perfect cover for them to continue with their work…" Altair trailed off as he rotated the scroll. _This is odd…it looks like a rough drawing of Masyaf!_ "This drawing…I think it is Masyaf. If I'm right, then this mark is in the stronghold."

"Well then perhaps now is the best time for you to return home? Before the Templars storm the hold."

Altair nodded in agreement and pocketed the parchment. "Do you have supplies at your safehouse?"

"I have everything you'll need."

"Good. We'll stop there on the way."


End file.
